


Birthday Candles

by TheCookieOfDoom



Series: Revocation [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Kinktober, M/M, Oral Sex, Temperature Play, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: It's Stiles' birthday. He doesn't get the traditional birthday cake and candles.
Relationships: Mitch Rapp/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Revocation [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649110
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Birthday Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 27: Wax Play
> 
> I might add some other days/prompts to this series next month. lord knows I'll need something to help me stay sane during NaNo...

Stiles watched Mitch lay out several candles on the nightstand, beside a pack of matches and a bowl of ice—Stiles didn't think anything of it when Mitch took one of the cubes and put it in his mouth. These weren’t the usual scented candles they liked to use for mood lighting. No, these candles served a different purpose. As soon as Mitch lit one of the candles, hot, syrupy white wax started pooling beneath the flame. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Stiles asked. He already knew the likely answer. Mitch was the type of person that believed in trying everything once, and had been at this long enough that he didn’t share many firsts with Stiles—though there have been a precious few. But Stiles was jittery with nerves and excitement, and with his hands bound, he didn’t have any other way but his mouth to let off some of that tension. 

“A few times.” Mitch left the candle for now, giving it a chance to melt a bit before they started. He ran his fingertips over Stiles’ chest, tracing featherlight circles around his nipples, and chills rose along his skin. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Stiles exhaled. “So ready.” His cock was already lying half-hard against his thigh from the anticipation alone. 

Grinning, Mitch leaned down to give him a kiss. He checked Stiles’ restraints, leather cuffs binding his hands to the corners of the bed to ensure he couldn’t squirm away. Once he was satisfied, Mitch picked up the candle, careful not to spill any of the wax over his hand, and held it over Stiles’ check. Stiles took a deep breath as he began to pour. 

The wax _drip, drip, dripped_ onto his skin. Stiles gasped at the burn. It didn’t exactly _hurt,_ but it did make his body tense up, the heat sinking into him. The wax dried quickly and Mitch poured more, this time lower. 

A molten flow of wax ran down his chest and abdomen, inch by burning inch, until Stiles’ heart was racing from it. 

Mitch wrapped his free hand around Stiles' cock. It was almost cool in comparison to Stiles' heated flesh. Stiles' curled his toes in the sheets as Mitch stroked him with dry, teasing touched that really only served to put him even more on edge, and keep his cock out of the way while Mitch poured the hot wax between Stiles' hips, just above his cock. “ _Fuck.”_

Mitch set the candle—a quarter of it already melted away—aside for now, and replaced the hand on Stiles’ cock with his mouth, halfway kneeling on the bed. The ice he’d been sucking on was just a thin chip on his tongue, now, and his mouth was so cold Stiles couldn't help hissing at the temperature. He didn’t know whether he wanted to pull away or push deeper. 

Fortunately, the decision wasn’t up to him. 

“So cold,” Stiles groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows as Mitch used his tongue to run the ice along his length. _So good though._ Mitch swirled the ice around the head of his cock, cold water dripping down his length as it melted, driving Stiles out of his mind with pleasure. He almost couldn't take it, especially when Mitch swallowed him down to the base. He had to hold Stiles' hips down to the bed to keep him from fucking into his mouth. Stiles pulled at his restraints and clenched his hands, wishing he was free to tangle his hands in Mitch's hair. Once the ice was fully melted, Mitch pulled away with one final, slow suck that left Stiles cross-eyed and gasping with pleasure. “No, wait, come back," Stiles whimpered. 

“Maybe later,” Mitch said with a grin. He brushed off the pieces of dried wax, picking them off Stiles' skin and clearing his canvas for more. The only evidence they'd ever been there was the sore patches of red they left behind, sensitive to the touch. Stiles shivered when Mitch pressed a cold kiss to the burned area above his cock. Then he got up and took a piece of black silk off the nightstand to tie around Stiles’ eyes, blinding him to what came next. 

_I love this part,_ Stiles thought, clenching his hands around his chains. The blindfold was one of his favorite things to play with. Not being able to see what Mitch intended to do to him heightened the sense of anticipation and made him hyper aware of his body. He still craned his neck like he was trying to look around the room, listening for Mitch. It was no use; his lover could be completely silent when he wanted, waiting for Stiles to let his guard down. Stiles couldn't even hear him breathing past the sound of the rushing blood in his ears.

After almost a full minute, he jolted when Mitch dripped the wax directly on his stiff, sensitive nipples. Seconds later, once the wax was hard enough, he brushed it off and followed it with a kiss, holding a fresh ice cube between his lips. 

“Mitch!” The shock of going from hot to cold so fast made Stiles jump, slightly arching his back and pressing into Mitch's mouth. Mitch wrapped an arm underneath him, holding Stiles against him, unable to escape the teasing torture. 

“Mhm?” He let the ice fall out of his mouth to slide wetly down Stiles' chest, freeing up his mouth to keep torturing Stiles’ nipples with sucking kisses and bites. Stiles writhed under his attention, pulling uselessly against his restraints. He canted his hips up but there was nothing for him to grind against, not way for him to get any friction against his aching cock. 

“Please, please touch me,” Stiles begged. 

“You sure you want that?”

“ _Yes,_ yes, please—” Mitch wrapped his hand around Stiles’ cock again, holding another ice cube, and he whimpered. He shouldn't have been surprised—with Mitch, terms and conditions _always_ applied. He smirked like he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking. “You’re a cruel, _evil_ man.” 

"I know," Mitch said with a laugh, not sounding even the least bit sorry. "You love it, though." 

Mitch indulged him for a few minutes, even after the ice melted and the friction of stroking Stiles’ cock began to warm him again. He rubbed his thumb just under the head in that way that made Stiles twist and squirm with pleasure, and got him _so_ _close_ to coming—then abruptly stopped again. Stiles should have known Mitch wouldn’t let him off that easy. 

The wax—now almost half-gone and dripping down the sides of the candle after its neglect—was once again picked up. Mitch poured it down to pool in the hollow of his throat, and all over his chest, not keeping to any pattern for Stiles to follow. Each new drip of wax was a tantalizing surprise. Sometimes Mitch followed it with a kiss, sometimes with ice, and Stiles could never guess which it would be but he loved it either way. 

In the end they got through two and a half of the candles. Stiles’ skin was left red and sensitive with delicate burns, and he was still aching to come, his cock straining against his stomach. Mitch kept working him up without any follow through, keeping him perpetually on the edge, and Stiles felt like he was going to _die._

“Are you ready to come?” Mitch finally asked, sweet, like he wasn’t the one driving Stiles to frustration. He lightly brushed his fingertips up and down Stiles' length, and even that small touch made him feel like he was going to burst. 

“ _Yes._ I’ve been ready for the last _hour._ ” 

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” 

“ _Mitch,_ ” Stiles whined, because _yes, yes he very much has earned it._ Mitch hugged a quiet laugh, sounding all too pleased with himself. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, rubbing Stiles’ thigh. Stiles could hear the mean smile in his voice. Mitch blew out the remainder of the third candle and poured the last of the wax on Stiles’ lower abdomen, making him jump in surprise. “May as well not let it go to waste,” he said. 

_Dick,_ Stiles thought. He didn’t say it out loud, though. He didn’t want to jeopardize his chance to _finally come_. Mitch was mean enough he might make him wait another hour. 

Stiles listened to Mitch move around beside him, trying to make out what he was doing. Putting away the candles, probably, and hopefully getting a bottle of lube. “You better be taking your clothes off.” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” Mitch climbed onto the bed between Stiles splayed thighs and set something off to the side. Stiles couldn’t make out what it was from the soft sound of it landing in the sheets. But he could feel Mitch's bare skin against him as Mitch arranged him how he liked, pleasing confirmation of his suspicions. Mitch pushed his legs further apart, holding them in place against his knees. He skimmed his hands up Stiles' thighs, thumbing the underside of his cock. “Are you ready for me?” 

“I’ve been ready. Are you going to fuck me or not?” 

“Patience, darling.” Stiles heard a strange rattle, but didn't think anything of it when Mitch popped open the bottle of lube. 

Mitch opened Stiles slowly. First with teasing touches, circling Stiles' rim before sliding in one slick finger, then another. He thrust them into Stiles until he was loose and pliant and begging for more. When Stiles finally couldn't take it anymore, Mitch pulled his fingers out and used the excess lube to slick Stiles' cock, stroking him with firm pulls and delicate twists, and the blindfold was useless at this point because Stiles couldn't keep his eyes open anyway. 

"Mitch please—please, it's enough, please just—" He cut himself off with a whine, feeling Mitch line himself up. 

Then he pressed two ice-cold fingers back into Stiles. 

“ _Jesus Christ!”_ Stiles cried, his entire body tensing, tightening around Mitch’s fingers. Somewhere beneath the shock, he distantly thought, _so that’s what that sound was._ Mitch must have kept his other hand in the bowl of ice, chilling his skin for one last torment. 

Mitch was always so warm. He ran hotter than Stiles did, often wearing T-shirts when Stiles was bundled up in layers right beside him. But now his hand was painfully cold, shocking against Stiles' most sensitive, intimate places. Mitch's fingers were like icicles inside of him, pressing deeper, freezing him to the core. 

“I hate you, I hate you—” Mitch cut him off with a kiss, holding himself above Stiles while thrusting his icy fingers in and out of him. The wires in Stiles’ brain weren’t just crossed, they were completely _tangled._ His body didn’t know _what_ to feel, caught between bad and _really fucking good,_ because Mitch was _so damn cold,_ but he also knew exactly how to touch him to make his brain white-out with pleasure. 

When Mitch’s fingers were warmed by Stiles’ body, he got a fresh ice cube, and Stiles wanted to cry when he circled it around his rim. There was no need for subtlety this time, now that he’d given away the surprise. 

“You’re the _worst—_ ” Stiles voice went high at the end as Mitch pushed the small piece of ice against his entrance, a silent threat. “Never mind,” he squeaked. 

“That’s what I thought.” Mitch circled the ice around the taught peaks of Stiles' nipples until it melted away. Then he reached up to pull off Stiles' blindfold, and was apparently feeling generous because he unclipped the chains from Stiles’ leather cuffs, as well. 

Finally, _finally,_ Mitch slicked his cock, lined himself up, and pressed inside. “Fuck, you’re cold," he hissed, sheathing himself to the hilt. 

“It’s your fault,” Stiles groaned. Mitch was _hot_ inside of him, and filled him perfectly. Stiles folded his legs loosely around Mitch’s waist and pulled him closer, holding him inside. This was the part he loved—before Mitch _really_ started in on him, giving him a tender moment to catch his breath and savor the feel of their bodies together. Stiles tangled his hands in Mitch’s hair and pulled him down for a deep kiss. “If you keep me waiting much longer, I’ll have to take care of things myself,” he whispered. Mitch smiled and nipped his bottom lip sharply

“Don’t make me tie you back down.” 

“You are so mean to me.”

“Mhmm. Happy birthday, darling.” Mitch kissed Stiles’ nose sweetly. Then he sat back, taking hold of Stiles' hips, and thrust back into him _hard._

“Fuck yes,” Stiles moaned, clenching his hands in the sheets as Mitch started a hard, punishing pace.

 _I’m going to be so sore tomorrow. Worth it._

Mitch fucked him breathless, until Stiles couldn't even think, just _feel_. Mitch filled his senses; inside him, around him, consuming him completely. When Stiles finally came, ropes of come painting his stomach, he could barely think to say Mitch's name. And Mitch kept fucking him, hard and fast until Stiles thought he might cry from the overstimulation, until he came too, filling Stiles with hot come. 

Stiles threw his arm over Mitch when his lover dropped beside him, both of them lying in the remains of their night as they caught their breath. Dried wax and water and sweat stuck to Stiles' skin, but he was too blissed out to do anything about it. Mitch rolled Stiles over to strip off the sheet and kicked it onto the floor to be dealt with later. 

"I love you," Stiles said, tilting his face up for a kiss that Mitch happily gave.

"Love you, too."

_Best. Birthday. Ever._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed ; )


End file.
